There’s Smoke In Them Thar Hills

Bow Tie o’ the Day and I are giving y’all a view of the sky out back. It is gray. It is grey. No matter how you spell it, the sky is full of smoke. For the past few days, the mountains to our east have been disappearing right before our eyes. First, we see ’em. And then, we don’t. The smoke moves in, then blows away. Back and forth. And then repeat some more. It’s a slow-motion show through our tall windows, that’s for sure. It’s like watching a snail-paced ocean ebb and flow in the sky. Don’t get me wrong—the wildfires are a tragedy. I am, however, fascinated with how the smoke finds its way to my sky, and how it changes my normal landscape. The natural light falls differently on objects in the house. Behind the smoke, the sunrises and sunsets are vivid with unusual hues. My mountains seem to be playing a game of peek-a-boo with me and Skitter. It’s all very interesting to me, because I am here to see it happen. My advice is simple: While you’re here, notice everything.

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